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Dreambook Bestiary Fear's Understudy Like some lost part of a model kit for Sir Dogma's cracked armor an armadillo merges with night. It rests against a mossy stone. A steel-gray safe-deposit box, ground level, two quicksilver eyes peer out from under a coral helmet color of fossil. It lives encased in an asbestos hull at the edge of a kingdom of blackberries in quagmire, in a grassy daydream, sucked into its shield by logic of flesh. The Art ofAtrophy The possum plays dead as Spanish moss, a seasoned actor giving us his dumb show. He dreams of ripe persimmons, watching a dried stick beside a white thunderstone, with one eye half-open, a grin slipping from the crooked corners of his mouth, that old silver moon playing tricks again. How long can he play this waiting game, till the season collapses, till blowflies, worms, & ants crawl into his dull coat & sneak him away under the evening star? Now he's a master escape artist like Lazarus, the gray lining from a workman's glove lost in frost-colored leaves. . Heart ofthe Rose Garden A cluster of microscopic mouths all working at onceII3 from I Apologize for the Eyes in My Head ants improve the soil, sift dust through a millennium of wings. They subsist on fear, drawn to the lovebone, to the base of the skull where a slow undermining takes shape. Under moonlight they begin their instinctual autopsy, sensing when grief tracks someone down in her red patent-leather shoes, when a man's soul slips behind a headstone. Glimpse Near a spidery cage of grass this cripple inches sideways up a sandy trail with its little confiscated burden. Just bigger than a man's thumbnail, light as the shadow of a bone. The sea falls short again. Claws unfold. Its body almost creeps out. Morning ticks away. Playing yes, no, maybe so, it places its dome-shack down on the sand & backs off, surveying for the first tremor of loss. Underside of Light Centipede. Tubular, bright egg sac trailing like a lodestone (unable to say which is dragging which) out of damp compost: biological soil, miasma, where lightning starts like a sharp pain in god's spine. In its armor, this sentinel rises from a vault of double blackness. This vegetal love forecasting April crawls toward murdering light, first thing tied to last. II4 N EON V ERN A C U L A R ...

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